


Burning Out

by Jadeycakes99



Series: Autistic Castiel [17]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Autism, Autistic Burnout, Don't scar Sam, Husbands, M/M, Panick Attack, Passing, Smoking, slur
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-24
Updated: 2015-07-06
Packaged: 2018-04-05 21:42:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4195938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jadeycakes99/pseuds/Jadeycakes99





	1. Chapter 1

Cas was pacing, which, generally, was not a good thing. He hadn’t been having a difficult time lately, in fact, just the opposite. In his opinion, he was doing an exemplary job. He was always good at his job, but lately he’d been making an extra effort at the socializing part. His home life was great, especially compared to the last time he and Dean had moved in together. Sam was there, which was different, but he had been making sure not to alienate his brother-in-law. It wasn’t hard, seeing as said brother-in-law had been making himself scarce. It was difficult keeping stuff bottled in all the time, and the several psychology courses Cas had taken in college told him that it wouldn’t end well, but Cas was going to let off some steam. Eventually. 

Yesterday hadn’t been the best day. He didn’t leave the parking lot until he was supposed to be home. Dean didn’t notice, but his coworkers did. When they called, he told them that he had strep throat in what he hoped was a convincing sick voice. Cas realized he’d been off lately. He hadn’t felt this distant since he’d been living in his mother’s house.

It was coffee time now though. Coffee time was good. He didn’t have work today either. It would give him a chance to get over it. He looked around the kitchen uncomfortably. There was too much. The fridge was there, but it was supposed to be there. The table was there, though it also belonged in the kitchen. There was a bowl, but the bowl didn’t belong there. Cas stopped pacing to stare at the bowl. It belonged in the kitchen, but it didn’t go on the table…or maybe it did. Cas couldn’t remember where the bowl went. He was almost positive it didn’t belong in the kitchen, yet he was also fairly positive he could remember using the bowl in the kitchen. It just wasn’t in this kitchen. Cas didn’t remember this kitchen. He liked the kitchen that was there before.

“Hey,” Dean grumbled as he passed his husband and kissed his cheek. Cas jumped away from the contact, but Dean didn’t notice as he tiredly shuffled to the coffee pot. He blinked in surprise. “No coffee?” Castiel needed coffee to survive most mornings.

“We moved,” Castiel said loudly.

“Yeah?” Dean asked, reaching for the coffee filters. He opened the coffee beans, only to find them gone.

“When did we move?” Castiel asked.

“We moved a couple weeks ago.” Dean put down the canister. “Are you okay?”

“I don’t have any cigarettes,” Castiel replied, beginning to pace again.

“Cas,” Dean began, abandoning the hunt for coffee altogether, “are you okay?”

“I don’t remember why I came in here. There was a bowl.” 

Dean chalked it up to the missing coffee. “Come back to bed with me. Later, we’ll go to the grocery store.” 

Suddenly, Dean had Cas’s hand, and the bowl problem went away, as Cas was led into their bedroom. Cas lay awake. He was slipping. He had been doing well, but now he was slipping. He looked over to his husband, who seemed dead asleep again. He could do this. 

“I’m in my bedroom. Dean’s here. I’m fine. I’m in our bed. I’m in our bed. I’m in our bed. I’m in our bed,” he murmured until Dean started to stir. He clamped his jaw shut.

#

After they had woken up properly, Cas and Dean went to the store. 

“Do not light up in my car,” Dean warned after they left with a package of coffee beans, two cups of coffee, and a carton of smokes. The threatening edge in his voice was benign, but his resentful glare was real. Dean really did not approve of the fact that Cas had bought his first pack of cigarettes in a month. Castiel rolled his eyes.

“Where is your car?” Cas asked, tapping the pack against his palm. Dean looked oddly at him.

“My car is right there, where we usually park.” Cas pulled a cigarette out of the packet before they went home. 

He knew where the car was, Cas realized, as he pulled the door closed behind him. He should have known. He wasn't sure what he was supposed to know at the moment, which was scary. It didn't alleviate any of the fear he felt when Dean had that look on his face. Reading people was not his forte, but he was great at reading Dean, and Dean looked concerned. Cas quickly checked himself, and his foot was tapping. Reluctantly, he stopped tapping his foot and crushed the cigarette package slightly before tightening his muscles and folding his hands in his lap.

#

Dean ignored his husband’s strange behavior. He had been a little off since they’d moved in. It was better than last time; they’d gotten into fights every other day when after they first moved in together. After a few hours of getting over being angry about the cigarettes, he had once again persuaded Cas to join him in their bedroom, though for a completely different reason.

“Stop,” Cas said. Dean laughed and kissed his neck. All of the sudden, he was pushed off. Slightly confused, Dean sat up. 

“What’s up, Cas?” Castiel’s arm was flung across his eyes. “Hey, hey, what’s wrong?”

“I don’t know. I—I forgot what we were doing for a second and it felt big.” 

“What?”

“Everything. It’s just lately…I can’t—I forget everything, and work, and our apartment. I tried driving to our old home yesterday. I can’t right now.”

“Shh.” Dean ran his hand through his husband’s hair. “I don’t get it. You were so much better this time. You haven’t had any meltdowns and work has been great, right?” 

“Cigarettes.” 

“Cas?”

“Cigarettes.” Dean reached over to the other bedside table. 

“Here.” Cas pulled one out and lit it. “Why are you so upset all of the sudden?” 

“I can’t—It’s you and work and Sam and you all want me to be normal, and I want to be normal, and I am, sometimes, but—” He took a drag of his cigarette. Dean switched his lamp on.

“Do I ever put any pressure on you?” Dean asked. His voice sounded scandalized, and he believed he had every reason to be scandalized. He couldn’t remember one time in their entire relationship where he tried to force Cas to be something he wasn’t. Cas thought for a moment.

“No. People look at you like you’re a hero. Poor Dean and his retarded husband!” Cas yelled jamming his cigarette on the ashtray.”

“Are you kidding me right now?” Dean asked, his voice barely above a whisper. “Number one, how dare you? Do I put up with shit from you? Yeah. You smoke, you listen to classical music, you get up at the crack of dawn. Never once have I acted like a hero for being with you. I’m not a hero.”

They sat in silence for a moment.

“I’m not saying you act like a hero. I’m saying that you would prefer that when we go out I don’t flap my hands or compulsively tap the silverware, garnering everyone’s attention,” Castiel said quietly. Dean stared at him, so Cas continued, “I’ve been trying to be less embarrassing.”

“I don’t care about that, Castiel. I love you. You could show up naked and covered in bees and I wouldn’t care. Well, I would care, but I certainly wouldn’t be embarrassed by it!”

Cas hesitated. “I care! This move has been an opportunity. Linda wanted me to help her plan her wedding and Greg thought that was vaguely homophobic.” Dean was caught by surprise again.

“Who are Linda and Greg?”

“The geology and the Latin professors.”

“Geology and Latin?” 

“Geology and Latin are perfectly acceptable subjects to choose friends from,” Cas insisted. 

Dean smiled. “Okay. Would Linda and Greg really care if on occasion you made a gesture or two?” Castiel took a minute to consider what Dean was saying.

“It’s not a gesture or two! It’s repetitive.”

“Cas?”

“What?”

“I promise that if the white suburban parents get mad at you for anything that makes you more comfortable, I will back off. Cas, you need to stop, you are going to bubble over, and maybe get lung cancer if you keep doing whatever it is you’re doing.”

“They aren’t white suburban parents. Linda isn’t even white.” 

Dean let out a small chuckle despite himself. “Cas, I was making a joke.”

“I need to spend the rest of the night in my room,” he replied loudly.

“Can you consider what I said?” Dean asked, as Cas stood up.

“About what?”

“Please, be yourself. I love you. Sam loves you, though God knows what he’s been doing lately. Charlie loves you. Hell, Meg loves you and she hates everyone. It’ll make you feel better.” 

Cas paused. “I’ll think about it,” he said, reaching for the doorknob. 

“Cas?”

“Yes?”

“As much I approve of emotionally scarring Sam, I would suggest putting on some clothes.” Cas looked down and laughed lightly. 

“Right. Yes. Okay.”

Castiel was already feeling better. The cigarettes were helping, but he would have to quit again. Finger tapping wasn’t that big of a deal. He could do that in school. Dean was right. Cas went into his room and crawled under his weighted blanket. There was a lot of stuff to fix, but he could get through it.


	2. Chapter 2

"I never thought that you would look at me like that." 

Cas stood up and headed to their room to get dressed. Dean sat at the table for a moment, confused. Then, he got up and followed his husband.

"Look at you like what?" he asked from the doorframe.

"Look at me like I'm some autistic kid to be pitied," Cas spat furiously. A few minutes ago, he couldn't make himself go to the kitchen, so the fact that he was exhausted should have come as a relief, except Dean’s announcement. Dean was trying to diagnose him, just like everyone else. Even after all that shit about him not caring, he still decided to diagnose Cas’s problem.

"I'm not pitying you. I'm trying to help," Dean defended.

"I'm not going to see a psychiatrist," Cas growled.

"I didn't even—"

"I refuse. I don't care if a pill or two will 'make your life or my life easier,'" he said, breath quickening. "I'm fine. I've been like this before. You cannot make me do anything."

"Relax!"

"No!" His hands began to flap at his sides. "You can't make me do anything."

"I'm not trying to make you do anything," Dean replied, confused. Cas wasn't usually one to jump to conclusions, especially accusatory conclusions. "I wanted to hang out today. Just you and me getting used to the apartment. That's all!" he yelled. Cas sat down on the bed and buried his face in his hands.

"I can't breathe," he said as his breath became faster and shallower. "I can't—" He started hyperventilating, bringing his hands up to his ears.

"It's okay. Cas, you're going to be okay. It's alright," Dean said, trying to keep his voice under control.

"Sam!" he called, panicked. "Sam!"

A disheveled Sam burst in seconds later, met with the sight of Castiel hyperventilating.

"What do I do?"

"What happened?" Sam asked.

"I don't know, we were fighting and then he just—"

Sam sat down next to him, close but not touching him. "Hey Cas, you're going to be okay." Sam soothed.

"I can't. I can't—"

"Trust me. Breathe in as deep as you can." Castiel shook his head.

"You're having a panic attack. You need to breathe," Sam said calmly.

"I can't," he said as his breath hitched. Sam took a deep breath. Cas watched and tried to mimic him. 

"Follow me. Breathe with me." Sam took another deep breath. Soon, Cas was following suit. "Better?" Cas nodded.

"What happened?" he asked. He looked over to Dean who was still standing near his dresser, wide-eyed.

"Just ask Dean. I'm sure he can tell you all of my problems." Cas stood up, and almost fell forward.

"Whoa there," Sam said, putting his arm out. "Maybe you should lay down."

"I will. In my room." He shuffled forward.

"Do you need help?"

"No!" Cas snapped. "I'm fine."

"Well?" Sam asked when Cas left.

"We had a fight," Dean said quietly he was still a little bit stunned. "That's never happened before. How did you know how to do that?"

"Please, I've been through plenty of finals," Sam dismissed. "What were you fighting about?"

"I don't know!" Dean rubbed a hand over his face. "He's been acting so—off, and he was so upset about it, so I looked it up. And I told him what I found, and he started going off about psychiatrists and me not telling him what to do, and then…” Dean swallowed heavily. “Then, that happened."

"What’s wrong?"

"According to the internet, it’s autistic burnout." Sam cringed.

"What?"

"Well, you know how his mother was," Sam said.

"Yeah—Wait. How do you know how his mother was?"

"Oh, you know, Ruby dated Anna, and she, you know, tells me stuff."

"You're still seeing Ruby?"

"Not the point. My point is, he probably had a panic attack because autistic was a bad word in their house. Anna can’t even say it, and Lucifer still skirts around the word."

"How do you know what Lucifer does?"

"We may have hung out once or twice."

"With Ruby?"

"Stay on topic," Sam snapped.

"What's your point?" Dean asked.

"My point is that he may be a little bit sensitive about being autistic," Sam suggested.

"Should I not have told him?" Dean asked.

"I don't know." Sam replied, putting his hands up. "You should probably talk to him, though." Dean looked down.

"You're right." They sat in silence for a moment. "So, Ruby?"

"We're not serious or anything."

"Wanna invite her to dinner?" Sam raised an eyebrow.

"And they say you take after Dad," he said, intending to leave the room.

"Shut up."

"Are you and Dad gonna make up soon?" Sam mocked.

"Out!"

"But Mom, you know I hate it when you fight."

"You're grounded. Now, if you don't mind." He gestured to the door. Sam clapped Dean on the shoulder as he left.

"Seriously, make up."

"I'll try."

Dean raked a hand through his hair and stared down the hallway at Cas’s door. He sighed and stood up, squaring his shoulders.

Dean knocked. When he didn't receive an answer, he cautiously entered the room.

"Hey," he said quietly before he started coughing on smoke. He waived his hand in front of his face.

"Hi," Cas replied, coughing lightly.

"You okay?"

"I freaked out."

"Maybe a little."

"Maybe you were right. Maybe I can't handle this."

"Handle what? You're doing great. You just need some time to relax," Dean said, sitting on the bed.

"It's because I'm autistic. I didn't sign up for it. You didn't sign up for it. You can break up with me if you want."

"No, I could divorce you if I want, which I don't." Cas didn't respond. "I did sign up for this. I love you. I signed up for every part of you. I'm not concerned that we think, feel, or see things differently. We don’t have the same brain and that’s okay.”

Cas looked toward the wall.

“Hey, Sam doesn’t have the same brain either, neither does anyone else. I don’t care about any of that. I'm worried because you've been upset lately. You just had a panic attack because I said something that made you jump to a conclusion that wasn’t there. I just wanted to fix what’s been bothering you. I just think that some rest would help, and obviously us fighting isn't helping." 

Cas put out his cigarette, and exhaled one last breath of smoke.

"I'm sorry. I may have blown things out of proportion." That line felt weird. He’d said that before after arguments with his mother, but there was a new context in this situation. He did blow this out of proportion. He had a panic attack for God's sake. He relinquished control after maintaining complete control over the past few weeks.

"Let's watch a movie."

"Are you sure?" Dean asked. "After meltdowns you usually can't do the whole television thing." Cas paused and collected his thoughts.

"I didn't have a meltdown. I've been doing my damnedest not to have a meltdown these past few weeks." 

Dean paused. "Do you think that would help?"

"What?"

"Having a meltdown. Or maybe just stimming a little bit?"

"Stimming?" Cas asked.

"Yeah, that thing you do with your hands." Dean mimicked his hand flapping gesture. "Or even with your nails, as long as you don't hurt yourself."

"Stimming?" Cas asked again.

"Yeah, last night I was on a couple aut—" he stopped himself. “When I was online last night, I happened to find out what that was called."

"I can manage," Cas replied coldly.

"Do you want to at least try?" There was a long silence. Cas didn't want to fight anymore either, but he also didn't want to...do that. They sat in silence while he tried to find the words.

"Let's watch a movie now, and we can talk about it later." He leaned in and kissed Dean before getting up and heading to the living room. Dean followed. They still had a lot more to talk about, but until then, they marathoned Lord of the Rings in companionable silence.


End file.
